


Lay Here For Years (Your Hand In Mine)

by AcaigaWrites



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Young!Royai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcaigaWrites/pseuds/AcaigaWrites
Summary: Roy's time as an apprentice for the civilian alchemist Berthold Hawkeye would play a part in his future bigger than he could have ever imagined. The same could be said for Riza.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	1. Rocky Foundations

Roy Mustang has never been one for the country.

Raised a city-dweller, he's no stranger to the occasional bouts of gauzy smog, or the hustle and bustle that arrives hand-in-hand with urban living. Central City, Amestris, has been home to him for as long as he can remember. Trips away into rural areas are infrequent, if they happen at all, but he doesn't mind. Central is home; yet here he is, alone in the country - the "sticks", as his beloved Aunt refers to it.

At summer's end, it had been decided that Roy would be taken under the tutelage of the famed Alchemist Berthold Hawkeye. By age sixteen, present day, Roy had studied all he could get his hands on without breaking any legal boundaries. However, there's only so far he could reach before his searches lead to dead-ends, and as such, Roy's only remaining option had been to seek out an Alchemist for an apprenticeship.

Months later, Roy had earned himself the guidance of Master Hawkeye.

From what he can see of the vast mansion, Roy thinks a previous owner might have been wealthy, or at the very least well-off. That being said, the house is now in disrepair, dying ivy crawling up the sides of the splitting brickwork, the gardens overgrown with wildflowers and weeds. He wonders briefly how long Master Hawkeye has been the custodian. If he didn't know any better, he'd have assumed that the house had been left abandoned; perhaps that is the intention.

A youthful face appears in an upstairs window, just about visible behind the layer of dust coating the glass. A young girl, blonde, maybe three or four years younger than himself. As if noticing his observation, the girl startles, ducking away from view. Master Hawkeye hadn't mentioned any family in his letter, so Roy hadn't even considered the possibility of a daughter, or perhaps a wife.

Roy sees himself up the long driveway of the Hawkeye household, lugging his trunk along with him. Setting his trunk on the top of the stone steps, he takes a hold of the heavy door-knocker and knocks three times. It's several minutes before his knocking is answered, the door opening a tiny fraction - just enough for a face to appear in the gap.

"Can I help you?"

It's her - the same girl who had been spying on him from the upstairs window.

Roy smiles as politely as he can, noticing the distrust in her eyes. "Hi, I'm Roy. I'm... here as an apprentice for Master Hawkeye? I'm assuming this is the right house."

Her expression, somewhat wary before, turns unreadable. "Oh. Yes, father's been expecting you. Follow me."

The door opens and Roy enters. He's mildly surprised to see that the interior of the Hawkeye mansion is a little more maintained than the exterior, though that isn't saying much. It's relatively clean, if a little outdated and dark, with a faint smell of age permeating through the air. In the beams of sunlight streaking through the windows, he can see the many dust particles, but in a house this old, he can't say he's surprised. A large oak staircase rules the entrance hall, splitting off to two different sides of the house near the top.

"I'll show you to your room," the girl says, and he notices that she hasn't mentioned her name.

Still, he follows, tugging his trunk along with him up the many stairs and through winding, dark corridors. The rest of the house is just as dreary as the entrance hall, with no real substance or life. He feels a slight wave of sympathy for this girl, growing up in such an isolated area with such a quiet household. As a boy who grew up with fourteen sisters and a loud-mouthed aunt, he can't even fathom the idea of silence and solitude.

Eventually they come to a stop inside a room on the mansion's left wing. The girl stops just outside, handing him a key. Up close, he can see clearly that having a large home doesn't mean riches at all; her clothes are tatty, patched and re-sewn, and her shoes are well-worn flats that have seen better days. The sympathy intensifies.

"This is you," she says blandly. "Father will want to see you when you're settled in, so his study is on the first floor, right wing. You won't miss it, it has a sign on the door."

Before she turns to leave, he stops her. "Thank you, miss. I don't believe you've told me your name?"

"Doesn't matter," she shakes her head, already halfway out of the door. "You'll just end up forgetting anyway."

After she leaves, Roy can't help but feel a little perplexed. Even so, he'll be spending the greater part of several years here, so there'll be plenty of time to unpack the secrets of this house. But for now, what really needs unpacking is his trunk. First impressions are far more positive than they had been for the rest of the house. It's a lot less dusty in here, and the sheets on the bed backing onto the only window are clean. There's a closet, a desk, a set of drawers; he's set.

Once he's finished unpacking his possessions, he heads into the hall in search of Master Hawkeye.

* * *

"I expect the best from you. No less."

Roy isn't sure what to think of this Master Hawkeye. He radiates intellect, undoubtedly, but something else stands out - something _unhinged_. They've been talking over Roy's schedule for the upcoming months for a little over an hour, and Roy can't help but feel mildly uncomfortable in his company. But this man is going to teach Roy the toughest aspects of alchemy, and with a push, then hopefully flame alchemy. For now, he'll study hard and suck up when necessary.

"Understood, Sir." Roy nods.

Master Hawkeye's eyes stare from gaunt cheeks. He doesn't look much like his daughter - the hair is too dark, the eyes too small, the nose too hooked. Roy chances his luck at a little more information. "I notice you have a daughter."

Master Hawkeye's stoic expression softens, albeit only by a fraction. "That'll be Riza. You mustn't mind her, she's a lonesome little thing. If you stay out of her way, she'll stay out of yours."

"She seemed very pleasant," Roy refutes, though politely. "I'm sure she and I will get along."

"Don't allow her to distract you from your studies," Master Hawkeye growls, his eyes narrowing. "You are here to learn, not to frolic with children. Anyway - Riza usually cooks, and dinner will be served at six. Dismissed."

* * *

Several days pass, and Riza is elusive as ever.

She appears around the mansion only in glimpses, out of the corner of his eye. The only time he ever truly sees her is at mealtimes, like breakfast or dinner, with Master Hawkeye's omnipresence lording the table and forbidding conversation. Roy's only communications with anyone outside of the house lie in letters, so he fixates on writing them in between his studies. Some go to his aunt Chris, others to his sisters. Anything for some company these days.

He sits now, in the lamplight of his desk nearing eleven at night, scrawling out an italicised letter to his aunt to detail everything that had transpired in the past week. He knows she'll want to hear it all, and confirmed such when she told him just how empty and quiet the house would be without their only boy. He had quipped that, with his sisters, nothing could ever be quiet.

_Aunt Chris, _

_It's been a week since I arrived here and I've settled in well. It's a bit quiet here, but I figured it would be, being the countryside and all. Master Hawkeye is a tough man, no-nonsense, and he has a kid, too. Her name's Riza, but she might as well be a ghost for all I ever see of her. I was hoping she'd be company, just someone to break the silence, but if anything it's like having a harmless live-in spirit. One that doesn't even like to slam doors or knock furniture over. _

_The work is challenging, but I've been working at it hard and I'm already starting to notice some improvements. Master Hawkeye is a fantastic tutor, but I have no doubts that he wouldn't hesitate to kick me out if my skills start slipping. I'm planning to go out to the nearby town at some point - it's not big, and still very rural, but maybe it's got a little more life to it than in this house. _

_How are the girls? I hope they're doing okay. Send them all my love, and make sure they keep up with schoolwork - especially Vanessa, I know how she procrastinates. I'll buy them all something when I'm out of lessons and go to that town I mentioned. Can't remember its name for the life of me. _

_I hope this letter finds you well, _

_Love Roy._

Roy posts the letter the next day, addressing it back to Central. He's already missing them - he isn't a homebody, but he adores his family like they're his right arm. He will write another in the coming weeks, but for now he'd just attend Master Hawkeye's tutor sessions and study to pass the time. He secretly hopes that Master Hawkeye would take a sick day every once in a while.

As he's returning from the bottom of the drive, he realises with a start that he left his house key upstairs in his desk. He doesn't want to disturb Master Hawkeye, and especially doesn't want to face his irritation. At the same time, he doesn't want to annoy Riza any more than he feels he already has. What he's done, he doesn't know, but he doesn't want to make things worse. Regardless, he knocks. He really does need to get back in.

Riza is the one to open the door, her face pulled into a scowl. "Couldn't you use your key?"

"I left it upstairs," Roy tells her sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I was posting a letter."

"Right." She says no more, and turns on her heel to walk away again. He doesn't want to miss this opportunity.

"Riza, have I done something? I really didn't mean to upset you. I just want to apologise in case I have."

Riza looks up at him - no easy feat, because she's short regardless, but when in this proximity, she's almost straining her neck. "You haven't. It's not your problem."

Roy frowns. "I don't-"

"I'll see you at dinner."

She's gone before he can even respond.

* * *

Dinner that night is a tense one.

That's not to say that it isn't the same every night, but Roy thinks he might just be feeling a little more on edge because of the fleeting interaction he had with Riza a couple of hours ago. Now she sits across from him directly, while her father sits at the head of the table, and he counts himself lucky if she spares him so much as a glance.

She speaks little, and if ever, only to her father. He can't help but pick up on the tension between the father and daughter. Master Hawkeye talks to her like a stranger. He speaks with short, terse comments or responses, and Roy notices how any conversation is instigated solely and timidly by Riza. When she catches Roy staring between them, she glares daggers at him, and he turns his focus down to his dinner plate.

After dinner, Master Hawkeye makes himself scarce, retiring early to bed. He doesn't tidy his plate, leaving it for Riza to deal with instead, which Roy finds incredibly unfair. Riza busies herself at the sink. Roy decides that, despite their frosty relationship, it's only right to offer his help. He approaches her, setting his hand at her shoulder.

"Do you want any he-"

The plate Riza is drying slips from her grasp, shattering into jagged pieces of ceramic on the floor. Her expression grows distraught, a look of fear in her eyes, though of what, Roy doesn't know. Her eyes are wide, her hands clasped over her mouth.

She looks terrified.

"Hey, Riza, it's okay, we can clear it up," Roy tries to reassure her, not quite sure why this is so great a deal to her. "Really, it's fine."

"No," she snaps, and his heart sinks at the way her eyes have begun to glisten. "No, just go. Go, I said. Leave!"

Heart pounding, with sympathy or confusion he doesn't know, he leaves the room, hearing nothing but her sleeve-muffled sobs as he goes.


	2. Reconciliation

Roy groans pitifully, his head hitting the desk.

Wincing, he rubs at his forehead, already regretting the red mark that will soon form, and pushes his revision tomes away from him. It's nearing eight o'clock, an hour after dinner had finished, and he is no closer to cracking down on this little alchemic principle than he had been several hours ago, stuck in the same frustrated predicament. If he's honest, he did, at some point, think this would be a whole lot easier.

The sky isn't dark yet, the orange hues of dusk only now settling in on the horizon. The setting sun casts a warm glow over the expansive gardens, and he finds them beautiful despite the overgrowth. From his view from his narrow bedroom window, Roy can see winding stone slabs leading through several trellises barely visible beneath the overtaking nature. Perhaps he'll go and explore a little.

Autumn set in a couple of weeks ago, the air taking on a chill and the trees turning to gold. He's fine with the chill, even if Central is a little warmer, and he has his coat and scarf. He has yet to actually need them, so his wool sweater will suffice for the time being, and his hands can cope with being shoved into his trouser pockets.

Roy takes a walk into the gardens, admiring the almost eerie beauty of it all. Leaves crunch beneath his every footstep, and he can't help but feel a bit of childish delight in the sounds. He feels ten years old again, playing in Autumn with his sisters, jumping in puddles and ruining his clothes. His heart gives a little skip of longing, and he recognises the feeling of homesickness almost instantly.

A scraping noise captures his attention, a little further down the path from where he's walking. Following it, he walks between several trees to find Riza with a rake, moving the leaves away from the side of a pond he hadn't even known was there until now. It seems futile to him to even try to tidy these gardens with a simple rake - surely they're too far gone by now. She must feel cold, too, because she's not wearing any more layers than usual, and even the ones she is aren't very insulating. She hasn't noticed him yet.

Their relationship - or lack thereof - hasn't improved in the weeks he has been staying here. She still avoids him, regards him with an icy indifference that he can never get used to. He doesn't call her Riza, because that makes him feel closer than she evidently wants, so he's reverted to "Miss", or "Miss Hawkeye". One thing that has changed is that she no longer glares at him, but instead keeps her eyes away from him at all times. He can't tell which is worse.

"Miss Hawkeye," Roy greets, hands in his pockets. She jerks, a little startled, and frowns. It's a scary look even for a teenage girl, and he has to say he's almost impressed. "It's getting really cold out - don't you want to head inside?"

She looks a little confused, as if she doesn't really know why he's talking to her in the first place. "Cold out for you, city boy. We're used to it. I'm okay. But thank you."

Riza goes back to her work, obviously signalling for him to leave. He doesn't.

"Look, Miss Hawkeye," Roy sighs. "I know you said weeks ago that I haven't done anything to upset you, but that doesn't really seem true. You don't like me, and I'm not asking you to be my best friend, I'm just wondering why."

Riza stops, heaves a sigh of her own, and puts the rake aside. "You really haven't."

"Then just... tell me why."

"The others don't usually put up this much of a fight," Riza deadpans, taking a seat on the stone bench sitting beside the pond. Roy doesn't quite know how to respond to that. "You really want to know?"

"Wouldn't have asked otherwise." He sits beside her on the bench.

"I'm afraid." Roy hesitates, and turns his head to look at her. She's not looking back but at the floor, swinging her legs a little. Almost shy.

"Afraid? Of what?"

"There have been enough people here who have just disappeared without a second glance in my direction," she says, still refusing to look at him. "For all I know, you could just be another one of them."

He can't help but perceive her as a solitary creature by nature. Maybe it's the lifeless house, the dilapidated gardens, the silent atmosphere, but he can't imagine Riza as anything but a quiet introvert. But now, when he thinks about it, he's had fourteen sisters around him growing up, and every single one of them had friends to boast of, always talking and never alone. At thirteen, surely Riza should have more company than her father.

"Where did they go? The people."

"Oh, away. Somewhere better than here, probably." Her expression turns wistful. "They were some of my father's failures, some of them younger than you, some older. None of them graduated, they all either gave up or got kicked out."

Roy's chest warms, any resentment towards Riza's coldness dissipating. "If it makes you feel better," he tries, "I don't intend to get kicked out. I'm working hard. And, hey - even if I _did_ get kicked out, there's no reason we shouldn't still be friends. I mean, if you wanted."

"I do," she nodded. "Want to be friends, I mean. But you'd just get bored of me."

"Hey, now, none of that," Roy admonishes, giving her a smile. "I wouldn't get bored of you. I mean it, I'd come back and visit you. Send you letters."

Riza's face, for the first time since he'd met her, brightens up with a smile, but he can't help but feel it looks somewhat melancholy. A sadness behind those eyes. She tilts her head to the side, tucking short blonde hair behind her ear. He can see her icy persona slipping away before his very eyes.

"As nice as that offer is," she starts, a tired sadness in her tone, "I don't think my father would ever allow casual visitors."

"None?" Roy raises an eyebrow. "C'mon, surely he lets you have friends from school over?"

Riza's smile wilts a little, and Roy mentally kicks himself before she carries on. "I don't really have any. I'm too quiet. Even if I did, father probably wouldn't let them come over here. We haven't had anyone over - apart from father's apprentices, of course - since my mother died."

_So that's why it's just Riza and her father_. "Oh. I'm sorry, Riza, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no," she interrupts gently. "It's fine. She died when I was little. Four, maybe, five. Enough to miss her, but not really remember her. What about you, Roy? What's your family like?"

"Well," he begins, "pretty busy. In a good way, though. When I was younger both of my parents died, and my aunt, she took me in. She owns a bar, so I grew up there. I've got sisters - fourteen, actually, but they aren't biological. Most of them are just workers at the bar, but to me and my aunt they may as well be family."

"That's sweet," Riza says. "What are they like?"

"My aunt's a tough woman, but she's got a good heart. You'd like her, I think, and I know she'd like you." Roy laces his hands together, feeling the cold air on his skin. "And my sisters... well, there's so many that'd it would take a while to talk about every one, but they're all wonderful."

"I'd like to meet them. If father was to ever let me, that is," she adds quickly, as if dismissing the very thought. "To be honest, I think the only friend I've ever properly had was a bird."

"A bird?"

"Yeah. This little thing, a starling of some sort, that's what father said. It broke its wing and couldn't move. I took it in."

"Did it survive?"

"It did, actually." Riza's eyes glaze a little, but she doesn't seem upset. "Father healed its wing and I nursed it back to health. It stuck with us for about a month, actually, never really left the gardens. I used to look forward to coming home from school just so I could see it."

"What happened to it?"

"It left. I came home from school one day and it had disappeared." Her tone is light, cheerful. "It was okay though, I didn't feel sad. I was just happy that we'd helped it."

"That's a nice way to look at it," Roy says. "Optimistic. Does your father ever let you go out to town?"

Riza thinks for a moment, shakes her head. "No, not really. I only ever go out to school. My father used to take me when I was smaller, probably eight or nine, but not since then. He's a bit of a recluse."

He can't imagine having to live the way she does. Chris Mustang, his beloved aunt, had never been one for rules and regulations - at least the harsher ones - so Roy has never had trouble with finding fun things to occupy himself with. What would he have been doing at thirteen? Probably out in the streets playing ball with other kids, if he wasn't studying. Hanging out with friends, things that poor Riza isn't even allowed to have.

"Then how about this - next time your father goes on a trip and he's out of town for a couple of days, I'll take you there." Roy promises.

Riza looks at him sceptically as if she expects him to start laughing and tell her he's kidding. "Are you being serious?"

"Serious as can be. We'll have fun, do anything you'd like."

"Then... yeah. I'd like that," Riza nods, her smile returning. It's brighter this time, more genuine, more hopeful. "But Roy, don't forget. I'll hold you to it."

"I promise."

* * *

Riza watches him as he returns to the house with a wave.

It doesn't seem so bad having him around anymore. Maybe she's foolish, getting attached to this boy who has just promised what feels like the world to her, but she can't help it. It's been so long since she's actually enjoyed life, and she owes it to herself now to make the most of what she can get. She feels that, despite him being an older, slightly street-wise city boy, he has a good heart. She supposes it doesn't hurt that he doesn't look half bad either.

Her mind drifts traitorously to the last apprentices.

Her father's first apprentice had been Joan, an eighteen-year-old girl who had the work ethic of a slug. She was forever finding any excuses not to work, and Riza could guarantee that whenever she went into the sitting room, she'd find Joan sitting there, reading a book completely unrelated to alchemy or just fast asleep. Joan didn't last long, maybe five or six weeks at most.

Next, Friedrich. He was younger, just fifteen, and as cocky and arrogant as they come. If boastful had a human face, it would take Friedrich's as there could be no better suitor. It was mildly amusing at first, watching him attempt to best her father at his own work. Friedrich was a show-off, plain and simple, and Riza couldn't stand him. It didn't matter though, because Riza's father kicked him out after just two weeks.

The final apprentice before Roy had nearly been the last straw. Her father had seen potential in sixteen-year-old Alani, a girl Riza had found very pretty when she was eleven. Alani was good, and that was an understatement. Plus, she was always kind to Riza. She had a true affinity for alchemy, but her short temper was her hamartia. If there was something Alani didn't instantly understand, she'd grow furious with herself, sometimes beyond the point of reasoning. Truth be told, it was quite scary. Thus, Alani was sent home.

And to think, Master Hawkeye had nearly stopped taking in apprentices after Alani. They had worn his patience paper-thin, and even though Riza hadn't particularly liked all of the apprentices, the prospect of a lack of human interaction with anyone other than her father scares her. She'll admit, even just seeing Roy around the house makes her feel so much less alone.

She can feel guilt simmering in the pit of her stomach; he'd been so kind to her even when she brushed him off. Always so polite and friendly even when she didn't give him a reason to be.

He deserves her kindness in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This one is quite dialogue heavy just because I wanted to bridge that icy gap between their friendship! Comments and Kudos are ALWAYS appreciated <3


	3. A Trip to Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeere's the next update! I really just wanted to see Riza being a happy kid for once. Hope you guys enjoy the fluff while it lasts ;)

"All set?"

Roy waits at the bottom of the stairs, coat hanging open and his white scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. It's a colder day today, and fall is nearing its end, but the gold outside has yet to give way to white. It's nearing midday, so it's warmer, and the chill in the air is by no means something he and Riza aren't used to - this mansion doesn't look like it's ever heard of central heating. At least the sitting room has a fireplace, so he can definitely make a fire for that when it gets too cold.

"Ready," Riza announces, bounding down the stairs. She's got a bounce to her step these days, and this weekend she doesn't have to act like a mouse around the house; Master Hawkeye is out on business, though where Roy doesn't know. He's a little glad, though, because he's allowed some time off and he can make good on his promise to Riza.

A trip to the town.

Granted, it's been several weeks of waiting until this moment. They've been secretive, making little comments and plans out of earshot of Master Hawkeye, waiting for the day he'd finally take time away and leave for a while. They'd gotten lucky this weekend, with Master Hawkeye leaving on business on Friday and due to return late on Monday. Roy had seen the tension visibly lift from Riza's shoulders when her father had announced his departure; he could feel it in his own.

"Milady," Roy smiles teasingly, offering his arm to her as she reaches the bottom step. She rolls her eyes but takes it anyway, using her other hand to tuck the house keys in her pocket. Together they leave the mansion behind, walking just over a mile to the town nearby. They talk the entirety of the journey, and Riza never releases Roy's arm. He doesn't mind. She's much more animated these days, a glint in her eyes, and it warms him to the core to have seen her come out of her shell. Maybe it's her father's absence, maybe it's Roy's presence, but either way he doesn't mind; he's just happy to see her smiling.

Roy's pocket watch tells him that it's midday when they arrive. The town is by no means busy, but it's the weekly market day so he counts himself lucky - his ears have been aching for that atmospheric hum since he left Central. The town is decorated with stalls, each selling different goods - he can see everything from food to house furnishings, from pet-care to candles. It is now that he realises that whilst he can appreciate the tranquillity of the countryside, nothing can quite beat the comfort of a town.

Coming to live with the Hawkeyes, Roy had figured that he might need some spending money for trips like these. There's nothing he wants, nor particularly needs, but he regardless he can think of other uses. He hasn't missed the way Riza has been keeping a longing, eager eye on the clothes stands, nor how his chest aches to give that to her. If her father isn't willing, then someone must be.

"Show me what you'd like," Roy insists as he catches her looking at one particular stand, "and I'll get it for you."

"Oh, you don't have t-"

"Riza," Roy interrupts, grinning, "it's fine. You can have whatever you want. Don't feel bad about it, either. I've got a lot left over from little part-time jobs I did a couple of months ago."

Riza looks down at the floor. "Are you... sure? I don't want to be rude."

"Riza, there's a lot of words I'd use to describe you, but rude isn't one of them."

She eventually relents, though it takes strong prompting and reassurance from Roy. He used to buy things for his aunt and sisters, and there was certainly no hesitation on their end. They take several minutes looking at every stall, um-ing and ah-ing over anything that strikes Riza's fancy before she decides it might not be what she'd like after all. Roy takes a step back, never giving an opinion unless prompted by Riza.

They buy a pair of leather boots first and foremost, with thick, warm socks to cushion her feet. Riza doesn't put them on yet though, because she's decided to put everything on at once in a nearby restroom. The other clothing items come with a little difficulty, purely because Riza is a little indecisive. Roy assumes it might be because she's never been faced with such a choice before, and it's rather upsetting.

"How about this?" He shows her a V-necked sweater in lilac, but after a moment of consideration, she shakes her head sadly. "Not your type of thing?"

"It's not that," she says, not quite meeting his eyes. "Not enough... coverage."

Roy is confused. Never before would he have assumed a sweater to be anything less than conservative. But Riza is adamant and he's not one to refuse her, so they move on.

After some time around thirty minutes, she has finally settled on an answer: a warm, grey turtleneck tucked into a pretty black pinafore-skirt. She thanks him repeatedly, and Roy can only laugh and tell her how little of a deal it is to him - they're good quality clothes, but they won't break the bank.

"Go put them on now," Roy encourages, seeing the excitement on her face. "I'll grab us lunch in the meantime."

"Okay," Riza nods, a broad smile across her lips. "Meet by the fountain in the market square centre?"

* * *

Ordering food for the two of them had proves a far simpler task than Riza choosing a new set of clothes. Growing up in Central, Roy had grown accustomed to numerous delicacies of varying cultures, and learned what catered to his taste and what did not. But he wasn't quite sure about Riza - heaven forbid, the girl had been cooking dinner for her and her father for what appeared to be a long time, and he doubts she ever gets to see much variety.

He settles for something unadventurous, but tasty all the same; two simple, sweet pastries, one for each of them. When he's handed over a couple hundred cens, he heads to the fountain where he had agreed to meet Riza, only to find her already sitting there waiting for him. He'll admit, his jaw almost drops when he sees her wearing the new clothes, looking far happier and even healthier. She notices him staring and his cheeks warm a little, and she beckons him over with a wave.

"They suit you," he compliments her, and she gives him a lovely smile. "Thank you. Are you sure you didn't mind paying for them?"

"Absolutely not." He waves her off. "Just doing a favour for a good friend. Don't stress."

Minutes later, they sit and eat lunch together on the stone around the fountain, enjoying the music that drifts over from some busking guitarists. His upbringing had led to a significant education in the ways of music; one of his older sisters named Valerie had loved to play the violin, but he wasn't much of a talent for stringed instruments. But the piano on the other hand, now _that_ he could play.

They talk about nothing and everything, never short for conversation because there are endless questions to be asked. From Riza especially, who wants to know everything about Central and Roy's childhood, the friends he had, the life he led before meeting the Hawkeye family. She listens, enraptured, clinging on to his every word as if trying to commit every syllable to memory. Roy tries not to pry too much into Riza's own life. He's been around long enough to tell her childhood has not been an even remotely happy one.

"Tell me about what it was like," Riza says suddenly, and he frowns in confusion.

"What what was like?"

"Your childhood. Y'know, living in Central. In the big city. What's your family like? Any pets?" She swings her legs, her words a little muffled by her mouthful of flaky pastry.

"No, no pets," Roy laughs, then pauses. "Well, actually, one of the girls took in a stray once. I didn't ever see it much though, it mostly stayed with her or went out on the streets."

"And what are_ they_ like?" Riza asks, then clarifies, "your sisters, I mean."

"Well, I don't see all of them much any more," Roy says regretfully. "Some of them moved away a couple years ago. There's eight of us in the house right now, including me and my aunt."

"Eight?" Riza's jaw falls open, all pastry gone. "That's so many. What are your sisters' names?"

"You really want to know them?"

"Just the six living with you, how about that?"

"Well... Vanessa, Dina, Valerie, Jennifer, Maddison and Alya are still there. And my aunt's called Chris Mustang," Roy explains. "Though to a lot of people she's just Madame Christmas?"

"Christmas? Like the holiday?"

"Yeah, that's right." He nods. "They - my aunt and sisters - always used to spoil me. Buying me all sorts of things that I couldn't buy for myself as a kid. I'd like to get to the position where I can spoil them in return."

"That's really nice of you. You're a good man, Roy," she tells him, and he fights off the flush threatening to colour his cheeks.

"My aunt would say that it's my job as the man of the house," he jokes, "since I'm the only one there. I was orphaned, left with my aunt when I was little."

"Oh, that's awful." Riza's face falls. "My mum died when I was little, too."

Roy reaches over and gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She's had it so much worse than him, of that he is sure. After his parents' deaths, he was at least taken in by people who cared for him dearly and who were willing to give him the best life they possibly could. But Riza... Riza had been barely clothed, let alone properly raised with love and care. If his aunt knew, Roy was positive she'd kidnap Riza and give the kid some decent food.

"You'll come with me sometime and meet my aunt," Roy says. "And my sisters, too. They'd want to adopt you."

"That sounds wonderful. And, I don't want to be rude or ask anything you wouldn't want me to, so stop me if I do," Riza begins slowly, "but do you have a father figure? Like an uncle or something?"

Roy shakes his head. "No, no father figure. No uncle. I honestly think Master Hawkeye might be the first male authority figure I've ever actually had."

He's joking, and he doesn't miss the way Riza visibly flinches. Before he can apologise for his comment, Riza is talking again.

"He's not much to go by. Nothing to go by, now I think about it."

Roy doesn't really know what to say.

* * *

Dusk arrives several hours later when their stomachs are full and their moods are high. Earlier in the day, Roy bought a couple of pick n' mix bags to finish off their afternoon, reminding Riza to save some for when she's home to enjoy later, too. She seems to have developed a certain taste for strawberry laces, so he's given all of his to her. He's a lot happier eating chocolate, anyway.

The temperature lowers along with the sun, and it's far chillier than Roy had anticipated. Riza hasn't complained at all, but he can feel the goose bumps on his own flesh and he has more layers - she must be freezing. He shrugs the black overcoat from his shoulders and places it around her shoulders, rolling up the sleeves on her wrists a little - it's a little big on himself, so it almost swamps her. The sleeves still manage to cover her hands even when rolled up.

"Roy, that's okay, you'll get cold too," Riza objects, but he shakes his head.

"You're wearing less layers than me," he explains. "It's not too far to the house, so I'll be fine anyways."

She seems to have understood by now that resisting his generosity - though he'd hardly call it that - is futile. They fall back into step, Riza doing a little skip once every couple of steps. Roy makes a mental note to organise more of these trips - any leave from the Hawkeye mansion is a breath of fresh air, both figurative and literal.

He makes a mental note to bring Riza home to Central, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be a multi-chaptered, personal take on Roy and Riza's relationship as they pretty much grow up together. Hope you all enjoy, and remember that kudos and reviews are huge motivators for quicker updates! <3


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